


you get what you need

by alessandralee



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: College, F/F, Femslash February Trope Bingo, Future Fic, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6007891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smackle definitely doesn't want Riley as a roommate, but she has to admit she could do worse, especially when a stomach bug starts going around school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you get what you need

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "sick fic" square of the Femslash Trope Bingo Card.

When Smackle had received letter from Yale, two months before move-in, informing her that her roommate would be none other than Riley Matthews, she hadn’t been pleased.

In fact, she’d called school housing department, and spent a solid hour trying to convince them to back down on their ‘no switching of roommates without a valid reason, and no switching of roommates until at least the second week of the semester’ policy.

College was supposed to be about starting fresh and building a place for herself in the adult world. She couldn’t do that while living with someone who had known her at the age of twelve.

But two weeks into the semester, Smackle opted not to file for a switch. A girl down the hall complained that her roommate slept all day and was up tapping on her computer keyboard all night. Sometimes Smackle caught loud music blaring through her open window that had to be coming from someone on the other side of the building. And then there were all the unsubtle socks wrapped around some of the dorm room doors.

She could do much worse than Riley, who always used her headphones to listen to music, made all of her phone calls home from the common room, and never took up more than half the space in their minifridge.

In the middle of November, some stomach bug started going around campus. Smackle practically barricaded herself in her room in order to avoid catching it, constantly worrying that someone would give it to Riley, and then she’d be totally unable to avoid it.

But aside from an allergic reaction to the dust bunnies under their beds (easily remedied with the purchase of a Swiffer and an hour of their weekend free time), neither of them got sick and they both headed happily home for Thanksgiving break.

Smackle thought she’d lucked out until the first week of December, when her stomach started to feel a little off. She’d dismissed it as stress, or her body disagreeing with the dining hall food. But then she’d woken up at three in the morning with just enough time to fight with the keypad on the bathroom before throwing up.

There wasn’t much in her stomach at that point, but she waited bent over in the stall for a few minutes in hope that her stomach would calm down.

In her rush to make it in time, she hadn’t bothered to lock the door behind her and she jumped at the feeling of cool hands on her neck.

“Relax Smackle,” Riley said softly, “I’m just pulling your hair back.”

They waited like that for a bit, until Smackle could be sure that, even if she still felt awful, she wasn’t going to have any immediately need for the toilet bowl.

Then she let Riley lead her back to their room, tuck her into bed, and push the plastic garbage can into easy reach.

Smackle didn’t feel any better the next morning, but managed to fire off three emails to professors and three text messages to classmates she knew would take detailed notes.

She slept most of the morning, but woke up after gentle prodding from Riley around noon.

“You have class,” Smackle comments as soon as she checks the clock on her desk.

On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays Riley leaves their room for a 10AM class and doesn’t come back until 3:30. Smackle usually gets a lot of studying done during this time.

“I have an hour and fifteen minute lunch break,” Riley informs her. “I brought you soup.”

The thought of food has Smackle’s stomach simultaneously grumbling and rolling, but she forces herself into a sitting position and accepts what Riley brought.

For the most part, Smackle eats around the bits of chicken and the vegetables in the soup, but the broth and noodles settle her stomach just the tiniest bit.

“Thanks,” she remembers to say as she lays the empty paper container on her desk.

“No problem,” Riley tells her. “I also picked you up a few things.”

A few things seems like an understatement. Riley tugs a plastic bag off her bed and pulls out a large box of crackers, two bottles of ginger ale, a small container of Tums, a larger one of pepto bismol, a get well soon card with a cartoon dog on it, and a hot water bottle.

“My mother says not to leave the hot water bottle on your stomach for too long, but it should help in intervals,” Riley explains.

“You called your mother about me?” Smackle asks.

She hasn’t even had the energy to text her mother and tell her she’s sick.

Riley shrugs, “She always has the best advice.”

It’s not the first time that Smackle’s heard this about Topanga Matthews, but it’s probably the time she’s most grateful for it.

Smackle dozes off again while Riley goes to the bathroom to fill the water bottle. When she wakes up one of the bottles of ginger ale is in the fridge, everything else in within easy reach, and the hot water bottle is resting on her stomach, right next to the now filled out card.

Smackle’s not overjoyed to be missing a full day of classes (and she’s downright dreading the fact that she might have to miss more), but she’s pretty happy that she’s got Riley Matthews as a roommate.

Knowing there’s someone around who’s willing to look after her makes Smackle feel warm inside (and it’s not just the soothing heat from the water bottle).

Smackle forces herself to nibble on some crackers and down a bottle of the ginger ale after a few hours. That doesn’t go too well, and Riley finds her once again curled up on the floor of the hall bathroom.

“I think I had too much ginger ale,” Smackle explains, then practically begs Riley to grab the mouthwash from her bathroom caddy. Swishing that around her mouth makes Smackle feel infinitely more human.

“We’ll see how you feel at dinner-time,” Riley says.

It’s a comfort, even if the thought of eating again certainly isn’t.

Smackle wordlessly follows Riley back to their dorm and crawls into bed. Minutes later, Riley is nudging her to the side and climbing in next to her. She slides under about half of Smackle’s giant blanket pile, and lays her laptop in between the two of them.

“Now I’m thinking a romantic comedy,” Riley says, “but I can also be persuaded to go with travel documentary.”

The last thing Smackle remembers before dozing off is some underwater sculpture park and how soft Riley’s shoulder is.


End file.
